Broken Fangs and Silver Wings
by VanguardThorne
Summary: Gone are the times of heroes, standing between man and extinction. In its place, an era of corruption. Of complacency. Of deception. Remnant is situated on the brink of war, and no single person can stop it. There won't be heroes. Only survivors. AU Remnant, with a darker view of the Four Kingdoms, a dangerous, involved Schnee Dust Corporation, and a conflicted Roman and Cinder.


Broken Fangs and Silver Feathers

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Welcome to _**Broken Fangs and Silver Wings.**_

Before you continue, keep the following things in mind.

This is heavily AU. I'm planning on taking a _scythe-that's-also-a-high-powered-sniper-rifle_ to canon in as many logical ways as possible. Not needlessly, mind you; this is more of an experiment in the world of Remnant than anything else. A darker Remnant, yes, but still the Remnant you know and love.

In fact, it's so heavily AU that I plan on posting several supporting documents. These will not be required to understand the story, but will allow me to do some world building outside of the story and will help you better grasp why certain things are the way they are.

This story has, as of yet, undetermined pairings. However, if I do choose to do OC pairings, it will be strictly OC / OC. The current main cast has enough shipping as it is, no need to throw more into the mix.

 _Except for Jaune x Pyrrha. That will remain as such, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a_ _ **heathen.**_

I hope you enjoy what I've come up with.

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Prope Mors.

A testament to humanity's power since the dark days of Grimm, perched almost arrogantly atop the Vytal Summit, situated comfortably in the small mountain range on the equally small island. Many saw it as a reminder of the darkest era in recorded history, while others saw it as the only thing standing between the Four Kingdoms and another Great War.

What no one debated is that the ancient fortress had become a place where the governments of the Four Kingdoms did a great deal of political maneuvering, away from the cameras and publicity of their respective capitals. Many forgotten secrets were stored in documents within its stone walls, tucked away in darkened rooms kept under lock and key among racks of other scrolls gathering dust. Still, more secrets were whispered into the air of the many conference rooms surrounding the courtyard at the heart of the Keep.

One of these rooms, proclaimed by its heavy wooden ingress and the richly decorated silver plate to one side reading 'Remnant Defense Committee', was perhaps the penultimate place where certain decisions were made by the handful of powerful figures that ruled the Kingdoms and their respective Academies. Here, the Four Kingdoms had come to a deal involving the Treaty of Vytal. Here, they'd resolved the long outstanding hostilities between Vale and Vacuo, some two decades after the end of the Great War.

The room was not large, given the significance of its history, but was richly decorated. The walls were of a masterfully crafted ornate stone, the floor covered in wood panels dyed a deep burgundy. A small bar ran along one wall, a large glass window along another, displaying a dazzling view of the courtyard as specks of snow began to fall from its exposed canopy. The long meeting table was real ebony, imported all the way from Mistral, inlaid with the Vytal symbol in gold. Tarnishing its pristine surface was a series of folders and scrolls, the very oldest and newest forms of documentation.

The air was blighted by cigar smoke, rising in casual puffs before drifting up to the rafters, the expensive Vacuoian tobacco bringing a teasing, tart scent to the otherwise dry air. Four men and two women sat in the room, but one of the men was insignificant, merely a recorder of events, faded blond hair shorn in buzzcut, framing a square, empty face. His Atlesian Security Force uniform was crisp as he began transcribing the latest words into a new scroll.

One of the other three men in the room sat almost stiff, the woman at his side poised and elegant, while the other three individuals had far more indolent postures, each glancing over the various reports, dispatches, and scrolls. They perched in dignified chairs implying their influence, their expressions fixed in solemn features not dissimilar to a funeral. The table was a battlefield of political debris, a small snack, scrolls radiating in the red and white light of secure documents and ancient, bitter secrets. A heavy ream of papers was neatly stacked at the end of the meeting table, the top page embossed with a raised image of a pale white torch inside a white gear on a light blue background.

A puff of cigar smoke threaded into the air, followed by a deep euphonic voice. "And that is what has transpired thus far. As much as it sickens me to admit that such heinous crimes were committed within my borders, it stands to reason that I should consult the three of you on how to proceed from here. I trust you gentlemen understand the requirement for discretion in what we've discussed this far? There are… _elements_ back home that will attempt to pin this monstrosity on those not responsible."

The man who spoke puffed on his cigar briefly. He was not fat, but large, muscles once tense and powerful having shown signs of age. His expensive suit, a brilliant mixture of white and light blue, was unruffled from the trip from Atlas. His eyes were a dark, frigid gray, the same as his perfectly trimmed hair. Every line in his face was cold, elegant, and calm. A tap of the large hand dumped a crumbling pile of ash into the nearby ashtray.

The man that faced him across the table couldn't look more different from that which preceded him. Unlike the first, this man's frame was small, almost scrawny. His graying hair was unkempt, spreading out in a wide variety of different directions. A small set of specs were balanced perfectly on his nose, the wire frame initially jagged until they smoothed out near his covered ears. His attire was a deep green, buttoned with golden facets near the middle of his torso. The darkness of his uniform was offset by a brilliant emerald ascot emblazoned with a dark gray cross. His voice was a smooth, silky drawl. "General Ironwood, I think if Ms. Goodwitch were here, she would say the same thing I will: keeping this secret will buy us weeks, maybe months, before the White Fang discover what you have."

The man placed his fingertips together introspectively. "While that may buy you enough time to find the girl, it will do little to stop the White Fang from attacking out of outrage. And, given the evidence you've provided, there seems to be a clear… _outlet_ for their aggression."

The woman sitting next to the General nodded. Her face was simple yet elegant, even with age, with piercing, blue eyes, an sharp, prominent nose, and thin but shapely lips now curving into a small grin. Long cascades of white hair were coiled tightly into a long braid, setting off the crystalline blue pattern of her expensive dress. Her voice, a warm alto cooled by a hard Atlesian accent, rang out with certainty.

"Very true, Ozpin. Schnee Dust Corporation, despite our proven innocence, is put in quite a compromising light. We will, without a doubt, face increased aggression from the White Fang. We will handle this… _internally_. For now, our objective should be to find the girl."

General Ironwood nodded his head. "Lady Schnee, that's why we're here. Atlas Security Forces have confirmed that the subject has left Atlesian borders in a hijacked airship. Her current whereabouts are unknown. We will have to move quickly on this. She won't stay hidden forever, and if she reveals herself at an inopportune time… the public will quickly turn against us. They don't understand what we face."

Lady Schnee sniffed disdainfully. "I hardly care of the thoughts of the masses, General. I leave that to you four. I merely want the girl. What do we have on her thus far?"

Ironwood turned to Ozpin, who shook his head softly. "As I said earlier, the subject's name is Ash Darrows. This is most recent image of her we have. It was taken from Project: Archon security cameras during the raid in which we found her."

A single pixelated face flickered into existence in cold blue lighting above the center of the table, followed by a scrolling list of attributes, capabilities, and facts. The haptic image was that of a faunus woman, her face a sketch in stillness. Dull silver hair framed features that would be lovely if it were not twisted in such a bitter expression. Atop her head was a set of dark gray ears, folded slightly forwards. Eyes the color of a raging hurricane surrounded by a pitch black sclera stared out unseeing, the nose, thin; the facets of the head set and almost unfeeling. Her eyes, though, drew one in, promising nothing but sorrow.

Ironwood looked across at Ozpin, and then the other two headmasters next to him. "Her combat capabilities are, indeed… worrying."

The larger of the two headmasters, directly to the left of Ozpin, gave a restrained glare. The man was barrel chested, his frame thick with muscle, but his appearance was almost incensed, ferentic. His posture was that of arrogance, his nose pointed skywards as a gesture of pride.

"Am I reading this right? This seventeen year old girl is proficient in _Ketan_?" Ironwood nodded slowly at the headmaster of Vacuo, who sneered towards him in disgust. "What exactly were they doing teaching her the martial arts of Vacuoian special forces?"

Lady Schnee arched an eyebrow. "Why is this significant, Dusk?"

The other headmaster, to Ozpin's right, frowned before speaking, her dark face set in tired lines. It was a face that spoke of great fortitude and great sorrow, and her voice, refined with a touch of Mistral, distorted her trim, muscular appearance. "Ketan is perhaps the most deadly form of martial arts on the planet, Lady Schnee. Training in it more often than not leads to death. The fact that she can use it with _any_ level of skill is..." She trailed off delicately, and the lady made a grimace of distaste.

Then she sneered.

"How barbaric. I expect this will complicate acquisition?"

Ironwood frowned this time, glancing over at Ozpin. "Lady Schnee, it would probably be beneficial to your current predicament if you didn't treat Ash Darrows as an… _asset_ to secure. After all, the implications against your family are already severe enough."

Ozpin took a small sip from his cup of coffee before nodding slowly. "Many were left unsatisfied by the Atlesian investigation into your involvement in this… abomination. You already stand on flimsy ground."

Lady Schnee smiled slowly. "Another investigation will reveal what we already know, Ozpin, and merely be a waste of resources and time. The former we have, the latter we do not. I merely wish to have this unsightly incident smoothed over. That can't happen if this girl proves dangerous to civilians."

"What happened to not caring about the opinion of the masses?" Headmaster Dusk replied with a grin scrawled across his face.

"Opinions, no. But losing the lives of potential customers is something that can and should be avoided." Lady Schnee was greatly annoyed by Dusk's accusations, her voice dripping with disdain.

Ironwood folded his arms, glancing at Dusk of Vacuo and Amaranth of Mistral. "We need to focus, ladies and gentlemen. While we can _all_ agree that the girl is not to be harmed," as he spoke, his voice was full of venom as he turned towards Lady Schnee, "we are also all in agreement that allowing her to simply be free isn't an option either. At least, not initially."

Ozpin frowned. "We mustn't forget that we are dealing with a teenage girl. Powerful, surely, but not inherently dangerous. She's probably scared out of her mind. Being detained and routinely tortured by a madman in the name of science for the majority of her life may leave her unstable, yes, but also confused. We need to approach this with _tact_. Not strength."

Headmaster Amaranth looked at Ozpin with interest. "It sounds as if you have a plan."

Ozpin shook his head. "Merely a suggestion, Amaranth. I believe that we don't have to do anything _at all_." The Vale Headmaster stood up and gestured to the scrolling text detailing all of the aspects and quirks of Ash's life. "It says here that she wanted to become a huntress. To find what became of her parents."

Dusk sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Her parents are dead, Oz. Dr. Slate lied to her to get her involved in Project: Archon."

Ozpin gave a tight smile, facing General Ironwood and Lady Schnee. "But she doesn't know that. While she holds no loyalty to Slate after what he did to her, she is still looking for answers for the questions Slate stuck in her head. All she knows of is how to fight. How to hunt."

Ironwood puffed his cigar again. "Then it stands to reason that she would seek out those who would help her improve. Those who wouldn't think twice about a specially trained fighter in their midst. The various huntsmen academies."

Ozpin glanced over at the other two headmasters at the table. "The odds of her going to Atlas are thin, General, given the fact that she has fled your territory entirely. That leaves Beacon, Shade, and Haven. Given her level of skill, it should be simple for a trained eye to spot her. When one of us does so, we will approach her via _peaceful_ means."

Lady Schnee sighed, exasperated. "That could take _weeks_ , Ozpin."

Amaranth spoke up this time, glaring at the Schnee Dust Corporation representative. "And, short of deploying the entirety of our armed forces on a global manhunt, there's nothing else we can do. The four kingdoms are already on edge; if we move a large amount of troops, it could spark another war."

Ironwood nodded. "So long as the three of you swear to report her whereabouts once you discover her, I have no qualms with this plan." As he said this, the general scrubbed out his cigar. He stood, extending a hand towards Lady Schnee.

After a brief moment of defiance, she took it gracefully, cool eyes raking over Ozpin and Amaranth. "I will agree to this… for now. Should she continue to evade us, a new approach must be decided upon."

The room emptied, leaving behind the single man to finish up recording the notes and clean the documents and materials from the table.

O-o-O-o-O

Ironwood and Ozpin walked out of the room, and then down the conjoining hallway, ignoring the intricate stone work and Vytal logo tapestries. Dress boots clicked with a metronome-like precision as the two men rounded another corner, before Ironwood stopped. "Ozpin, this is deep down the rabbit hole. We never should have allowed her to attend."

Headmaster Ozpin paused for several seconds, his smooth face taut with a mix of emotions. "Like it or not, James, the Schnee's are involved in this in some way. They're hiding something. Keeping them close is the only thing we can do."

Ironwood sighed. "I know. I should have stepped in quicker, but-"

Ozpin closed his eyes and grimaced. "James, now isn't the time to beat yourself up about this. You made mistakes, and Atlas was breached. Things like this happen. What is important is we have a chance to make things right. Getting this girl, offering her a new lease at life."

James only nodded. "Only if we get her before Schnee does. I fear if they get their hands on her, she may never see the light of day." The General shook his head, lost in thought. "You should have seen what I found in that facility, Oz. I couldn't put a bullet in Slate's head fast enough."

Ozpin fixed him with a somewhat cold, empty expression. "Sometimes, the greatest of monsters aren't the ones trying to break down our doors, James. Our priority is the girl. If we can keep Ash out of _Her_ hands, then it's a job well done. Even if that means giving her up to Schnee."

Ironwood gave a gentle, sad smile. "I hope you're right about this, Oz."

Ozpin nodded. "I am. I suspect she will be attending Beacon this upcoming fall, no less."

Ironwood looked back up at his companion in shock. "And how can you be so bold to say such, Oz?"

Ozpin took another sip from his cup of coffee before revealing a thin smile. "Besides the fact that the ship she stole was a short ranged transport initially headed towards Vale?" The headmaster laughed. "I guess you could call it a hunch, James."

Ozpin put a hand on Ironwood's shoulder. "And my hunches are rarely wrong."

With that cryptic statement, Ozpin turned and departed, leaving a bewildered Ironwood by himself for several seconds.

He sighed, then tapped his scroll to bring up his comm-link. "Winter, I'm done here. Have my launch ready for me, then prep for immediate departure for Atlas. When Captain Asis shows up, send him to my ready room."

He clicked off, turning to stare out a nearby window at the expanse of the Keep Courtyard. "Dust, I hope this works."

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 **A/N:** If you've made it this far, you must be _kinda_ interested, right? I'd hope so. I'm not used to writing for FanFiction, as I tend to keep my works private, and so I'm being more thorough than I would perhaps be otherwise.

However, doing so takes a _long_ time on my own. So, if you want to join the party bus, by all means. I'm looking for editors, people to bounce ideas off of. If you're interested, PM me. You'll get credit. I swear. I am not a crook.


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